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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305927">Laografía (Folklore)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray'>killingsaray</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Album: folklore (Taylor Swift), Angst, Anthology Series, Cottagecore but make it Zurena, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I guess that makes it caravancore, Mini-Fic, Putas Ratas GC's Secret Santa, Romance, Zurena, for nat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:00:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Manifest vivid storytelling mostly from third-person perspectives that details escapism, introspection and nostalgia, which reflects its cottagecore aesthetic"... but make it Zurena.</p><p>OR</p><p>A “caravancore” anthology series inspired/based on folklore by Taylor Swift.</p><p>A Secret Santa gift for Nat, who loves Tay-Tay more than life itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for nat. I hope you love this for(evermore). merry christmas, my love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>λαογραφία.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But we were something, don't you think so?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>- Taylor Swift, “the 1”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Morocco</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zulema walks down to the beach, welcoming the hot sand when it meets her bare feet. She watches as the water kisses the land briefly before it pulls itself back into its own depths, and she finds that she’s more like the sea than she realizes. Unlike any other element, water can both nourish and destroy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It can sustain life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it can trap cities underneath of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why she left Macarena. So that the blonde wouldn’t become Atlantis, completely consumed by everything that is Zulema.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brunette looks down at the letter in her hand. When she thinks about it, it’s the first time she’s actually seen Macarena’s handwriting. The loops of her letters are elegant and carefree, except in Zulema’s name. There, the pen marks are darker as if Macarena stopped writing for a moment and then started again. As if she hadn’t been sure she wanted to write this letter at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Legs criss-cross and then Zulema drops to sit in the sand. Viridian eyes scan the contents for the umpteenth time since receiving the letter this morning. Her eyes get trapped on one particular stanza:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I persist and resist the temptation to ask you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>if one thing had been different,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>would everything be different today?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zulema considers it. Dismisses it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can only be who she is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what she is, she decides, is not good for Macarena. Not good for beautiful baby Rosa, whose photograph is included in the letter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zulema looks out at the beryl water that separates her and Macarena and her chest feels tight. Heart feels heavy. Despite her current freedom, she has never felt more trapped. In fact, if she really thinks about it, the freest she’s ever felt was when she was wrapped in Macarena’s embrace in their small caravan. It was hardly any bigger than their prison cells, but it felt like a mansion with Maca. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it would be selfish of her to track the blonde down in Thailand. Zulema would be happy to see her, but she’ll bring nothing but ruin to Maca’s doorstep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her soul is too wild of a tidal wave for the security and sturdiness of Macarena’s new life as a mother. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But damn, Zulema thinks as she stands and starts towards the sea, they had been a hell of a team. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. cardigan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The smell of smoke would hang around this long</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Cause I knew everything when I was young</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew I'd curse you for the longest time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘cardigan’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Macarena pulls her hoodie up and over her short, blonde hair. She’s cut it since the last time she was here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost eight years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifts her free hand and rests it against the cold marble and sniffles. This should be easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s not. It’s been eight fucking years and her heart still shatters in her chest every time she sees the name etched into the gravestone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zulema Zahir</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are so different, yet so much alike. Two slides of the same coin. Twin flames, as Altagracia had put it. Zulema always knew what she wanted and she went for it, no matter who she had to destroy in the process. She’d done it to Maca, and yes, it’d taken years for Macarena to forgive her. But eventually, the blonde did. Because matter what it came down to it, Zulema had taught Macarena so much. She taught her how to be unapologetically herself, and how to stop being such a goddamned welcome mat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Macarena felt like she didn’t know who she was anymore, Zulema reminded her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema made Macarena feel… that’s it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For so long, the blonde did what was expected of her; she used her manners, took the higher road, kept up appearances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A life that she felt trapped in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema showed her what it truly meant to be free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Maca still let her go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still left her bleeding out in the desert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, everything is just too perfect again. There is freedom, but it comes at a cost. An unpayable price of what if Zulema was still here? How would Zulema react in this situation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she feels a tug on her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama, do you think she would be my friend if she were still here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She would have been your best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca looks down at her seven-year-old daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because she was mine.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. the last great american dynasty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I had a marvelous time ruining everything.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘the last great american dynasty’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s made it a Moroccan safehouse and is treated like royalty. They afford her a luxurious shower in a stunning villa complete with shampoos and conditioners of all different scents and organic body washes made by locals. A closetful of beautifully colored clothing greets her when she is finished. By the time she is dressed in a loose tunic and cropped pants, a meal fit for a queen has been prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one asks her where Zulema was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it isn’t until she’d eaten half a bowl of tagine that realization dawns upon her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one has asked because Zulema had made this plan long ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zulema knew she wasn’t going to make it to Morocco. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And if she had, she wouldn’t have long to live a decent quality of life. Her cancer was sure to spread and that was more of a prison for Zulema than anything. Her mind --her brilliance-- was her freedom and she would have lost it soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With death comes new life</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema had muttered once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is new life forming inside of Macarena at this very moment and Zulema had made a choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How could she? How </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>dare</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> she?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca excuses herself and she walks quickly back to her own room, eyes watering but managing to smile politely at one of the villa’s staff members.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely makes it inside before she begins to hyperventilate. Maca’s back falls hard against the door, slamming it shut in the process. Tears fall, her body is wracked by sobs, she can feel every crack of her heart as it shatters inside of her chest. It hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This all hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes it to the bed and collapses, tortured wails reverberating off of the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teeth bared, cheeks tear-stained and arm cocked back, Macarena screams her frustration as she throws a crystal drinking glass from the nightstand across the room. It shatters. And so does she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you let me go?!” She screams to the empty room, tears falling, body wracked with sobs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as clear as day, she hears a familiar voice. Words exhaled like cigarette smoke, and just a sultry echo in Maca’s ear: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because, rubía, a promise is a promise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. exile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can see you starin’, honey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like he’s just your understudy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘exile’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca knows what she’s doing. Zulema is sure of it. She’s sashayed back into the brunette’s life with absolutely no regard for her own safety. Nor the safety of the moron currently draping himself all over her now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema stews. She seethes. She nearly cracks the tumblr she’s cleaning from behind the bar when the idiot presses his disgusting lips against Maca’s neck. Zulema’s blonde counterpart smiles, leans into the touch. Her dimple appears and her eyes shut briefly at the touch. But when she opens them, they find Zulema’s faster than the speed of sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grins devilishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Maca knows what she’s doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tienes cerveza</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” A customer asks, breaking Zulema’s death stare. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Es un puto bar. What do you think, idiot?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wants to reply. Instead she smiles slightly and finds their most expensive beer, uncaps it and hands it to him with a napkin. He slides her too much, tells her to keep the change and holds it up in silent cheers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly refocuses her attention on the white leather couch in the corner of the bar where Maca is now seated in his fucking lap, kissing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she has any reason to. She left Maca. What was the reason again? Oh yeah, some bullshit excuse about not being right for her when really it’s because she was just a coward. Maca made Zulema love her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Puta rubía. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she’s sliding off of his lap, and he gets up to head somewhere. He says something to her and she nods with a coquettish smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is he… the bathroom?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh fuck no. He is not about to fuck Macarena in Zulema’s club. Not that she owns it, but she owns Macarena. Always have, always will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca walks to the bar —is she walking in slow motion or does Zulema have a brain tumor or something?— leans over the bar, her tits pushing together and drawing Zulema’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have a shot of tequila, no salt, no lime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema fixes her drink, slides it to her, and leans over the bar as well, muttering, “I can kill him in six different ways, and make it look like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>painful</span>
  </em>
  <span> accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not yours anymore, Zulema.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde shoots the liquor, slams the glass back down and follows her boy toy to the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema isn’t angry anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s hurt. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. my tears ricochet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you’re tossing out blame,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drunk on this pain,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crossing out the good years,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wishing I stayed.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘my tears ricochet’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t phase Zulema in the least when she receives the text from her ex-wife at midnight. She’s up anyway. Checking IDs at the door of one of the hottest clubs in town. The brunette is relieved by another bouncer, so she steps away for a cigarette. She’s going to need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Are you going to make an appearance at your child’s graduation tomorrow?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema scoffs because she knows this isn’t what Macarena is texting her for. She’s probably drunk, and annoyed that she has to see Zulema’s face for an entire day tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Of course I’ll be there. Don’t make me out to be some sort of dead beat mom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If it’s a fight she wants, Zulema will give it to her. She’s been itching for some action lately. Life has become too mundane, and fuck she needs a little thrill. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Then don’t act like one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh </span>
  <b>fuck</b>
  <span> yes. Zulema grins at her phone as her heart begins to race from the surge of anger she’s beginning to feel. She’s a junkie for Maca’s fury, and she knows Maca is the same. Ever since their divorce, it’s been a continuous fight. They push and pull and kick and scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last month, their fight ended with Maca clawing at Zulema’s naked back while Zulema yanked on blonde hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re the bane of my existence</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema had muttered into her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then die</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Maca spat back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I thought I was dead to you already</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema asked, never once losing the rhythm of her stroking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema had pulled her strap out completely and then slammed back inside. She’d gripped Maca’s chin, forcing her to look into her eyes, as she did it over and over again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can lie to everyone else, Maca, pero te conozco.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca’s nails had drawn blood then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema still has the faint scars to prove it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Go fuck yourself. I’m always there for my kid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca picks this topic because it’s a sensitive one for Zulema. She knows it will infuriate her beyond measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-You’re not here now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema takes one last pull from her cigarette and flicks it onto the ground. It’s an invitation. And </span>
  <b>
    <em>fuck</em>
  </b>
  <span> she’s horny now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Spare key still under the mat?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Where else would it be?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema can’t wait to put Maca’s smart mouth to good use.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. mirrorball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I listened to this whole album while writing these mini-fics and this is my favorite song.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hush.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know they say the end is near,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I’m still on my highest tiptoes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Spinning in my highest heels, love.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shining just for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘mirrorball’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just wait until the honeymoon phase is over,” Saray laughs, “you’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saray,” Maria scolds, “don’t scare them. Let them enjoy each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s family dinner night at Saray and Maria’s house; a promise they’d kept to one another after prison. The food has long been eaten and Estrella has taken baby Rosa to the playroom to entertain her while the adults talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just letting them know that it’s hard work. There’s more to it than sex every night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying our relationship is difficult?” Maria asks, crossing her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saray throws her hands up in surrender. “No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mi amor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, loving you is the easiest thing in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good save,” Zulema says, reaching over the table and tapping her beer bottle against Saray’s. Saray pretended to wipe sweat off of her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it’s hard,” Maca interjects. “I mean, yeah, we argue, but Zule argues with everyone. It’s her nature, but no one knows how soft and silly she really is. She saves that part of herself for me, and I think you have to hold onto that intimacy even in the middle of an argument.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema nods in agreement. The hand that was resting on the back of Maca’s chair comes up and gently massages the back of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soft Zule?” Saray chuckles, “I don’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca and Zule look at one another, speaking with their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else has to know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one has to know that when Maca is feeling down, Zulema puts on the radio and pulls her out of bed or from the couch and forces her to dance until Maca’s head tilts back and she laughs freely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or that Zulema has a single sunflower sent to her workplace every Monday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that Zulema breaks out into song abruptly and holds whatever she has in her hand up to her mouth like a microphone and when Maca looks at her like she’s crazy, Zulema holds the mic to Maca for her to finish the lyrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s so incredibly random and so different than she was in prison, that Maca sometimes forgets that everything they’ve been through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema shows Maca new pieces of herself so often, and every time she does, it’s like meeting her all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The honeymoon phase</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the blonde thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is just beginning</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are there still beautiful things?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘seven’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a song that interrupts Macarena’s thoughts. It picks her up, travels her back into time and drops her smack dab into 1991. She can see it so vividly as if it’s happening right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seven-year-old Maca is sitting on the swingset in her backyard, swaying gently back and forth as she pretends to make her two dolls talk to one another. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, a voice breaks through her playtime. It’s not a pleasant one either. A man is switching back and forth between Spanish and Arabic. Macarena’s eyes bulge as she recognizes some of the nasty words. A woman’s voice follows and she’s not very nice either. Maca jumps a little when she hears glass shatter from inside the house across the street.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She watches as the front door opens and a girl a bit older than her emerges. Hair darker than her wild, sad eyes seems to float behind her as she runs down the walkway until she reaches the sidewalk. She stops and takes a deep breath, looks to the sky and then the strangest thing happens.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She starts to hum a song. It’s low at first. Maca can barely hear her, but as her pain transforms into something else completely, her voice becomes louder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yalla yalla, habibi, yalla yalla t’nam,” she sings. She wipes her own eyes and squares her shoulders. And Maca watches as she comforts herself and even though she’s young, the blonde can feel that this is something she does often. Because no one else does it for her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maca stands from her swing. She wants to do something. To say something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Be my friend”, maybe?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But before she can, the front door opens again and a woman is calling for the young girl. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Maca sits in the coffee shop, laptop open and cursor blinking away at her screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What did the woman call her? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zulema,” Maca says to herself in remembrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t notice the dark-haired woman turn around for a split second, thinking she’s heard her name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, that would be crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the brunette thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one knows that I’m back in town</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she slips out of the coffee shop, she gently sings, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yalla t’nam</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca is sure she hears it this time. She slams her laptop shut, gathers her things and runs out of the coffee shop. Her head darts to the left and then to the right…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...but the brunette that was singing the familiar song is nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. august</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“For me, it was enough,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To live for the hope of it all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘august’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Zulema is an asshole on purpose. It’s just that when it comes to making the right decision, that hard decision, she usually does the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For example, when she headed back to university to begin her senior year, she knew she would be leaving Macarena behind. And she knew that Macarena expected them to keep in touch, maybe in the back of her mind she hoped for a long distance relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema doesn’t do long-distance relationships. Hell, she barely does short-distance relationships. She never expected to get in so deep with this fucking blonde this summer. It was just supposed to be a one-night stand after her friend Saray’s party. They both were supposed to go their separate ways the morning after, but fucking hell, if the blonde didn’t make her laugh the next morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that means something to Zulema. She never laughs. Doesn’t really think most humans are funny. Finds them moronic, if she’s truthful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca had rolled over, blonde bangs sticking up every which way, and she found Zulema in her bed, she scoffed and said, “If you’re the reason why my vagina is sore, you’d better fucking run.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked for me to go harder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also asked my parents for a fucking unicorn, but do you see rainbow shit on my floor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema laughed. Loudly. Maca had groaned and shoved a pillow over her head, hangover on full attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema fucked her again that morning, and then took her to the best breakfast spot in Madrid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then on, they were inseparable. They went everywhere together. Maca had charmed Zulema with her quick wit and humor. And Zulema’s laid back vibe made Maca fall… hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They argued. A lot. Two strong personalities always clashed. Zulema would ignore Maca’s attempts at making up until she missed her too much. Maca would be passive aggressive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they always came back to each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, they lost contact sometime before midterms. Or rather, Zulema just stopped responding. And Maca met Fabio. Flaunts her stick-in-the-ass boyfriend on social media.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even now, as it’s nearing winter break for both of them, and Maca can’t help but wonder…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Zulema can’t help but think…</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. this is me trying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s hard to be anywhere these days,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When all I want is you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘this is me trying’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zulema is numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sitting on the back patio of Saray’s house, beer in her hand, and three shots of tequila deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels absolutely nothing. Sure, the buzz is there, but the spark is missing. The thing that makes her loosen up once she feels that warm tingle in her stomach after the first shot. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>oomph</span>
  </em>
  <span> that gets the party going and keeps the party going no matter how drunk everyone gets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spark that lights the fire under Zulema’s ass until she’s drunk, arguing a ridiculous opinion with her opposing counsel who is also drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s missing Maca.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s not solely her fault, but she’ll admit she played a part in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zule,” Saray whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema turns around and Saray summons her with an urgent wave of her hand. Zulema pushes off of the step and meets her best friend at the back door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my defense, I didn’t invite her. She came with Rizos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema doesn’t need to ask whom Saray is referring to. She knows. Entering the house with the tall brunette, Zulema prepares herself for what’s about to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s pulled herself up onto the counter in Saray’s kitchen. And even with the throbbing bass from the music and the dozens of other bodies swooping in and out of the room, it seems like the world slows until it’s just the two of them, gazing at one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca stops mid-sentence and Rizos turns to see what caught her attention. Not that she needs to. She and Saray had planned this perfectly. They both know Maca and Zulema still want one another. They just need to stop being so fucking stubborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde hops off of the counter and makes a hasty exit out of the room. She can’t do this right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saray’s hand on Zulema’s back is all she needs to head after Macarena. She catches her just outside of the front door, grabbing her wrist but quickly letting go as Maca yanks it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maca, please. Can we just… stop this? I--,” Zulema pauses, “I don’t know how to do this. I wasn’t--.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Brought up like you. Taught how to love properly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying,” she finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca regards her cautiously. Hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hurt me,” Macarena admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Just say you’ll keep trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. illicit affairs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘illicit affairs</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span> “This is the last time,” Zulema says into their kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the same thing she’s been saying for the better part of a year, and she knows it, but this time she means it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s got this gut feeling that something is about to go horribly wrong, and she’s desperately trying not to attribute it to the fact that she’s madly in love with Macarena Ferreiro. It’s the truth, though, and it doesn’t help that Macarena has absolutely no plans on to leave her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema doesn’t understand what she sees in him, but to each their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, she focuses on dipping her hand into Macarena’s panties, fingers sliding against wet skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel so good,” she says, her eyes closing. Their foreheads are pressed together and Zulema closes her eyes and tries to memorize the feeling of Macarena clenching around her fingers. She listens to the heaving breathing, the kittenish mews and the undeniable sound of Maca’s wetness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the moment Maca comes undone, Zulema snatches her hand away and tastes the blonde on her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tastes like everything she’s ever wanted and ever needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But can’t have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not completely, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me touch you,” Maca pleads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Zulema replies, eyes still closed. Because if she opens her eyes and gazes into Macarena’s, she will lose all resolve at leaving the blonde behind once she leaves this house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if she gives Maca the satisfaction of seeing her at her most vulnerable, she won’t be able to keep away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, she needs the frustration that comes with… well, not coming. Because then at least she can have something else to focus on when she leaves. Zulema does better with the negative emotions. Frustration, anger, unhappiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re familiar to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But fuck, being the little spoon has become familiar to her too. And so has the feeling of Macarena’s soft kiss against her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Maca whispers and Zulema freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wants to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then--.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Macarena, are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is the last time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. invisible string</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“All along there was some invisible string tying you to me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘invisible string’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two fine souls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema and Macarena gaze at one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunette can’t believe they made it here after so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde can believe, but she can’t believe they have so many witnesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For so long, they’ve lived in their own little bubble, the most unlikely pair and they loved in their own special way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a journey, for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema is used to being on her own. She’s used to being so independent and selfish, not doing anything for anyone if it doesn’t benefit her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, until she met the blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena isn’t used to being loved properly because the moment she shows the parts of her that aren’t perfect, people run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Zulema. No, Zulema loves her not in spite of her bad parts. She loves Maca because </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of her makes her who she is. She can see the unspoken truth behind the beautiful mask that Maca puts on for the rest of the world, and it’s terrifying but beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All this time. It’s been her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they unknowingly think at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone here has any reason why these two shouldn’t be married in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema doesn’t even have to give the audience a death glare because everyone here knows without the shadow of a doubt, these two were made for one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are soulmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twin flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And without further adieu, Saray, by the powers granted to her by the monarchy --and a website she’d found a week ago-- announced them, Mrs. and Mrs. Ferreiro-Zahir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may now kiss the bride,” Saray says, “but take it easy, my kid is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca and Zulema press their lips together and fireworks literally explode behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Te quiero, rubia</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Te quiero, </span>
  <em>
    <span>morocha</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Maca mocked and Zulema smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Maca can’t wait until they start their honeymoon.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. mad woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What did you think I’d say to that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘mad woman’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You’re being ridiculous,” Zulema chuckled sardonically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> being ridiculous?! Do you hear yourself right now?” Maca is furious. With good reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The definition of insane is repeating the same set of behaviors and expecting a different outcome. That’s how Zulema makes Maca feel: insane. Strait jacket, pull-out-her-own-hair fucking insane!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena wants a baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she thinks they’re in the right place for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema disagrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re robbing fucking banks and jewelry stores for a living! In what world are they ready to bring a baby into the equation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zulema, we talked about this! You said after the last heist, we would head to North Africa and settle down!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re at the peak of our career right now! People everywhere know our names!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the fucking problem! We need to get away from here! Get away from this life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’re so good at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When is enough, enough? How much money could you possibly need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a fair question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Zulema isn’t ready to admit that she’s terrified to settle down. What if she’s not good at it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Maca decides that Domestic Zulema isn’t enough?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema isn’t ready for Macarena to think less of her. For Macarena to be her superior. That’s what it boils down to; Macarena will know more about raising a child and being a wife and making a home than Zulema does because she doesn’t know what the fuck that means!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s never had that. Her mother sold her off to a man three times her age by the time she’d gotten her first period.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So… she does what she does best: she drives Maca insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m done, Zulema.” Macarena puts her hand on her forehead, willing herself not to cry. “I’m out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca grabs her keys off of the kitchenette counter. She doesn’t want to leave the home they’ve made for themselves in the caravan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she has to do what’s best for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if that means leaving Zulema behind, then that’s what she’ll have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m out,” she reaffirms, not only for Zulema, but for herself.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. epiphany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“With you, I serve. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With you, I fall down, down.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘epiphany’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a war zone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air consists of red dust and a suffocating heat that strangely reminds Zulema of home. When she was a girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s literally hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vamos</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Está muerta</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” One of them shouts and three trucks reverse quickly, leaving more suffocating red heat in their wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Macarena watches it happen from the safety of the helicopter. Her heart is in her throat and her eyes are desperately trying to make sense of what's happening. Zulema, the ruthless prisoner she’d once known has gone. In her absence rose a selfless woman that Maca has shared the last two years with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still had her faults; they were thieves. But Zulema doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be buried under pounds of red dust or to be picked over by buzzards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she may not have redeemed herself in the eyes of the law, but sees Zulema with 20/20 vision. In living color and full HD. And she is different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn around!” Maca shouts to the pilot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn around! I’m not leaving her here to die alone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your funeral.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The helicopter swoops sharply to the right and Zulema’s still body returns to Maca’s sight and the moment they land, she shoves the door open and runs back to her raven-haired counterpart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zulema! Zulema, I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears a choked gurgle of a sound, and Zulema’s bullet-ridden body jerks as she coughs up blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ya no estás sola</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Maca assures her, stroking her hair with a shaking hand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Estoy aquí. No estás sola. Lo prometo.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her free hand squeezes Zulema’s tightly as her tears fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>El elfo del puto infierno</span>
  </em>
  <span> is returning home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. betty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I put a twist on this song, hope it still works.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘betty’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Zulema and Macarena were… a secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one, not even their best friends, knew about their love affair. If one could even call it that. Really it was a series of stolen moments behind the mall parking lot, and sneaking Zulema into Maca’s house late at night when everyone else was asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes they kissed. For hours. Sometimes it was more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mostly… mostly, they just talked because it felt like they were the only two who could understand one another. As if they spoke their own secret language that no one else would ever be able to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But love doesn’t kiss another girl no matter how drunk love is at a party. Love doesn’t sneak another girl into its house. And love certainly doesn’t laugh when love is confronted for its actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, that’s not love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zulema thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s reminded, however, of Maca’s upbringing. And it’s no excuse really, especially if Macarena is going to use it as a defense mechanism whenever times get too tough. Especially because it’s superficial as fuck and Zulema thought they were way past that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Way past Maca’s mommy issues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all about appearances for her. And Zulema doesn’t fit the cookie cutter lifestyle that the blonde so desperately wants for herself. Or rather, the one that her parents want for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it’s enough for Zulema to take pause. To think that maybe Maca is just absolutely terrified because all she’s ever been taught that she was to go to school, get a good job, get married and start a family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Live happily ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>blah blah blah</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s bullshit, and Zulema knows it’s bullshit. And she knows that Maca knows that it’s bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, as much as she wants to, Zulema isn’t going to take this shit from a preppy blonde. They’re getting too old for this, and it’s high time that Macarena decides who she wants to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does she want to be a lion?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or does she want to be a lamb?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Rizos’ party is where Macarena decides because Zulema forces her to. She crashes, of course, because the preppy little fucks would never have someone like Zulema at their party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Rizos’ front porch, Zulema walks up and takes Macarena by surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Giving you a choice,” says Zulema, “and I don’t that often. Decide right now if you’re going to be a welcome mat for your parents’ dreams to wipe their feet on for the rest of your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca decides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chooses Zulema.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. peace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘peace’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Two people with the same love language isn’t rare, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it. Zulema’s love language is words of affirmation. And so is Macarena’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it feels like all they do is reassure one another that the love is still there. That they are still wanted. Still needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s hard some days when Zulema needs to hear that she isn’t bringing Macarena down while Macarena needs to hear that she is a good wife and a good mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be much easier if Macarena preferred receiving gifts. Zulema has more money than god and she would welcome the opportunity to lavish her wife with gifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the love of all things holy, Macarena wished Zulema’s love language was physical touch because she would satiated in this life and lives to come because Maca just can’t keep her hands off of Zulema.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But marriage isn’t always easy, they’ve come to realize. It’s a constant adventure, and with every adventure comes the unknown. That’s what they’ve started calling their bad days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days when Maca wants to knock Zulema in the head with an iron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days when Zulema wants to sell Maca for a beach vacation in Morocco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those are the times when it’s hard for them to even say ‘I love you’, let alone affirm any sort of positivity within the other because they can’t feel it in themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And those are the moments when Maca sees a different side of Zulema. The less-than-confident version of the older woman whose eyes remind Maca of a puppy’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to be your safe place,” she’ll murmur. “but I feel like a war is raging inside of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s the most honest, the most forthcoming, in the Unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel that way too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it’s okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Maca says with her eyes and a soft smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn’t have it any other way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because the truth is, in a twisted way, what would life be if there was constant peace? Boring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing the Ferreiro-Zahir household does not do… it’s mundane.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. hoax</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t want no other shade of blue</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Taylor Swift, ‘hoax’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maca is here, but she isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is literally lying against Zulema’s side while Zulema is stroking her hair, cheek resting on Maca’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a different kind of quiet that’s settled between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca throws her arm around Zulema’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maca can’t see but Zulema closes her eyes for a short while, relishing in the fact that here and now, Maca wants her to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wants her close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants the temporary comfort that comes from being wrapped in warm arms and surrounded by Zulema’s familiar scent, but something will always be missing. The love that she has for Zulema is not the same as what Zulema has for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Zulema doesn’t want a marriage of convenience. She wants it to be a symbiotic union where she gets something out of it too. Where she gets to feel just as comforted and just as loved as Macarena does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this, what they have, isn’t it. Maca doesn’t want her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is the hardest part to wrap her head around it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s… unwanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a fever dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An out-of-body experience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hoax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A trick that the Universe has played on her because for once in her miserable life she finds that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> love deeply and selflessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, it’s unrequited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like all of the bad karma from her past lives has culminated in this one moment where she has to kiss the top of Maca’s head, physically move her to the side and stand from the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Te quiero, rubita.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Maca walks her to the door, heart pounding, hands sweating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to stop Zulema. To tell her a sweet lie that will make her stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s wrong, and after all of the wrong she’s done, maybe the best thing for both of them is to let her go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So… she does.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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